


Vanilla

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blow Jobs, Candy Shop AU, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Strangers to Friends, The following only applies to chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:38:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Candy shop AU, Jean works there and Marco's a regular until he doesn't show up one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all like it!

“Hey, check out Mr. So Forgot It Was Black Friday.”  
Eren nudged Jean and pointed to the customer in the corner. His dark eyes shone with alarm as he stared at the line stretching almost to the door that was completely blocking the truffle case. The customer turned and started browsing the hard candies, every now and then warily glancing at the line again. _He’s not bad looking. Bet he’s shopping for a lady friend,_ Jean thought.

He turned to help the next shopper loaded down with boxes of sweets on sale and promptly forgot about the lost looking guest until he was next in line. As the man stacked his purchases on the counter, Jean took the opportunity to get a better look. He had brown eyes that were a bit richer than his dark hair. They had more golden tones whereas his hair was almost black. Above his eyes, his brow was wrinkled with stress, and below them he had a smattering of freckles, faded but standing out against his cheeks pink from the winter chill.

“Hi, ah, I’ll take these and two of the caramels in milk chocolate, please.”

“Sure thing. Eren’ll get the caramels and I’ll ring you up.”  
As Jean scanned the various candies, he noticed one in particular that was somewhat noteworthy.

“You like these vanilla lollipops too? I thought I was the only one. We can’t get them to sell; my manager always makes me take them home.”

“Oh, yes! They’re my favorite thing here. I can’t find them anywhere else, even online!” The customer beamed.

“Well, that’s good to know if I ever get fired,” Jean laughed. “$24.76. Do you need a bag?”

“No, thanks, I can carry it,” the shopper said as he fished $25 out of his pocket.

“Okay, then,” Jean conceded as he handed over twenty four cents. “Also, keep the caramels out of any heat, they’re more delicate than the chocolates.”

“Will do, thanks!”

As the man pushed open the door to the cold November day, Jean couldn’t help but stare at him over the murmuring crowd.

\----

Jean was restocking the candy canes one dark December evening when he turned around and almost ran into the adorable, vanilla loving customer from Black Friday.

“Hey,” he grinned. “Nice to see you! Enjoy your lollipops? Back for more?”

“No, I’ve got enough of those,” the stranger softly smiled back. “I’m here for gifts this time. You have hot chocolate mix, right?”

“Of course!” Jean led the way to the shelf with the hot chocolate. “Since you’re shopping for gifts, I’d recommend the sampler. It’s got peppermint, Mexican, and old fashioned chocolate.”

“Wow, that sounds great! I know this will definitely be appreciated.”  
“Your girlfriend’s a chocolate fan, huh?”  
“What? Oh, no, I don’t have a girlfriend,” the man nervously chuckled, a blush spreading under his freckles. “It’s for my best friend, who I guess is my ex too? We kissed a few times, but he wasn’t into it, and…”  
As he trailed off, Jean honed in on one word. _He? This guy was into dudes? He might actually have a shot with Freckleface._ Jean knew that he couldn’t scare the customer off by coming on too strong, though, otherwise his boss would kill him and he’d have to take all the vanilla lollipops by himself again.

“Well, uh, let me know what you decide to do, and I’ll ring you up. I’m Jean, by the way,” he hoped he said smoothly, pointing to his nametag.  
“I’m Marco. Nice to meet you, Jean,” the man replied, flashing another glowing smile that lit up his freckles.

Marco ended up getting the gift box of cocoa and a candy cane (“It’s the holidays! Have a treat!” Jean encouraged). As he walked back out into the cold, he waved, and Jean waved back, hoping his grin wasn’t too embarrassingly huge (it was).

\---

After the New Year, Marco started showing up about once a week, claiming that he craved sugar whenever it was cold. Jean started trying to feed him samples of the seasonal treats, showing him everything that was new every week while his shiftmate (usually Eren) looked on. He felt drawn to Marco, and loved the way his freckled face lit up then melted into a blissful expression every time he placed a confection on his tongue. Jean started leaving a few of his lollipop share behind the counter so he could offer one to Marco every time he came in. In early March, though, during a particularly blustery week, Marco failed to show. The green chocolates for St. Patrick’s day came and went, but after three weeks there was still no Marco. When Jean asked Eren where he might be, Eren just gave him a “how should I know, you’re the one who’s obsessed with him” look. Jean asked Annie, then, who gave him a stony faced “no.” Finally, he asked Mikasa, who scared him even more than Annie.

“I heard he was in the hospital. Not sure why though…”  
Jean froze. His Marco was in the hospital? Possibly dying? This couldn’t be happening. He felt loneliness and worry and just plain _fear_ wash over him, and then, visibly paler, walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds Marco in the hospital, takes pity on him, and gives him way too much attention.

Jean had tried everything. He had called all five hospitals in town, and none could tell him anything because of “patient confidentiality”. He didn’t even know which one Marco was in. He tried visiting each of the five, asking the receptionists about a tall, dark, and handsome Marco who was admitted in the past two months, but none could help without a last name. Jean was now sitting dejectedly in the lobby of the last he had visited, trying to formulate a plan. Patients and doctors went in and out of the automatic doors, a mechanical whir accompanying them each time. Jean had looked up eagerly the first few times he heard the sound, but had sunk back into his chair, face in hands, at the realization it wasn’t Marco. The doors whirred again. Jean didn’t bother to raise his head. He heard wheels with something metallic rattling above. How in the world was he going to find Marco? It wasn’t like he could just leave vanilla lollipops on his front porch and attract Marco like some little bird. Nor could he put up signs like for a lost puppy. What would they even say? “Lost: Marco. 6’0”-ish, brown hair, the most amazing eyes, freckles that look just gorgeous atop blushing cheeks…” Great. Now he was getting all poetic.

“Jean?”   
With a jolt, Jean realized the squeaking of wheels and rattling had stopped. That voice, though much weaker than he last heard, was so familiar. He could even smell a hint of vanilla…

Jean dared himself to look up, and found himself staring into the dark cinnamon eyes of Marco.

Entranced by Marco’s eyes, Jean took a few moments to zoom out. Marco’s freckles were faded, and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles. He was paler than he had been in the dead  of winter, wearing a hospital gown, and sitting in a wheelchair with an IV stand dripping into his arm.

“M-Marco? What happened to you? I was so worried when you didn’t come in – I mean, who else was going to eat those lollipops – and  I – oh, you’re _alive_. God, Marco, we were all so worried –“

“Jean, you’re babbling,” Marco murmured, a smile crinkling his eyes. “I was just on my way in from my—well, I guess it’s not a walk, but… You should come up to my room. We can talk longer if I don’t have to sit up.”

\---

After the longest elevator ride in Jean’s life, they were in a pale blue, sterile hospital room, with Marco easing himself onto the bed and Jean staring awkwardly from the corner. As soon as the nurse that had been pushing his wheelchair hooked Marco up to another IV and left, Jean blurted “What _happened_ to you?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a story. When I was little, my doctor discovered I had a valve in my heart that would need replacing. It wasn’t serious then, but I basically had this operation scheduled for years so it would never become a real problem. So about two months ago, I came in for the surgery and expected to stay about a week here to recover. After the surgery, though… My body wouldn’t accept the valve. It’s uncommon, but not unheard of, and pretty serious. I got really sick, basically, and though the doctors got it under control, it’s going to take a while to recover. Maybe just one more month, if I’m lucky, though probably closer to two.”

Jean frowned, taking all this in. “But, why the wheelchair? If it’s your heart, can’t you walk just fine?”

“Ah, that. It’s so I can’t do anything strenuous. Honestly, I know it does nothing but help me, but I kind of hate it. I can’t do much by myself with it.”  
Marco fell silent, gazing out the window. Jean took the lapse in conversation to look around the room. There was a single tulip in a vase on the windowsill, a chair in the corner, and all sorts of strange medical machines next to Marco’s bed. Jean felt something was missing, and as he took a seat in the chair and scooted it close to Marco’s side, it hit him.

“You don’t have any get well cards.”

“Oh, right.” Marco’s brow darkened. “My parents and I never got along that well. I’m not sure if they know where I live. I don’t have any siblings, either, and no close friends, so, no cards.”

“Oh.”

Jean stared at the floor feeling his face turning beet red while Marco directed his attention to the window again.

“I didn’t bring a card because I didn’t know I’d find you,” he began, “but I am coming to visit you every day, dammit, and I’m bringing you a card every time. I don’t care if we barely know each other, you deserve more than one friggin’ flower.”

“Jean, it’s fine, you really don’t have to – “

“I want to, Marco.” Jean looked over at the man in bed with fiery eyes. “I want to make you happy, the same way you made me smile every time you came into the sweet shop. Please.” Tears glistened in his amber eyes, threatening to spill over. “I missed you.”

“Oh, Jean…” Marco sighed, opening his arms. Jean almost fell into them, sobbing into Marco’s chest. Marco made out the words “scared” and “never coming back”.  
“I’m not going to die,” he laughed, feeling tears well up in his throat as well. “I’m fine! I’m not going anywhere.”  
Jean continued to sob into Marco’s chest, and a few beads of saltwater rolled down Marco’s cheeks and into Jean’s hair.

\---

“Hey, Marco, I promised. Here is get well card number one!”  
Jean strode into Marco’s room the next day, eyes much drier, chest puffed out with pride as he waved the small envelope.

“Aw, it’s even got a lollipop! How cute!” Marco pulled off the vanilla candy attatched to the envelope and pulled out the card to find a baby deer staring at him with a speech bubble saying “let me fawn over you until you’re better!”

“Jean. This is the worst joke I have ever read.”

“I’m going to ignore that comment. Beggars can’t be choosers. Open it!”

Marco opened the card up to reveal “Marco, hope you get better soon. Everyone at the shop says so too. Jean.”

“Wow, so sentimental. I wonder how you’ll be able to keep the poetry up until I’m better,” Marco teased.

Jean sat down with a “Hmmph,” and began to tell Marco all about how Eren knocked over the pot of gold wrapped chocolate coins in the St. Patrick’s day display.

\---

A pile of cards started to form on Marco’s windowsill, crowding out the wilting tulip. A jar of vanilla lollipops eventually took its place, as Jean brought at least one every day. One day, instead of a lollipop taped to the envelope, a white rose took its place. Marco looked up at Jean questioningly.

“I just thought you might want another flower, cuz that tulip died and all…” Jean muttered, not meeting Marco’s eyes. Marco grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a hug in response.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Jean struggled out of Marco’s arms, blushing furiously. “Hey, if you’re that strong already, don’t you get to leave the hospital?”

“Two more weeks, Jean,” Marco smiled.

\---

Six more roses joined the first one, ranging from snow white to a deep burgundy, bringing some brightness into the pale blue room. With one week to go till Marco could go home, he and Jean found themselves discussing the first thing he’d do.  
“You should totally go to a burger place and pig out. No more hospital shit.”  
“I think I might just take a nap in my own bed, actually. This one’s not super comfortable…”

Marco wiggled his toes that almost hung off the bed to illustrate his point. The bed must not have been designed for a six foot patient in mind.

“Actually, I need to figure out how I’m getting home. I took a taxi here.”  
“I can drive you!” Jean blurted. “I-I mean, it’s the least I can do.”  
“Jean, you’ve spent hours here and goodness-knows-how-much money on those get well cards. I don’t want to trouble you more!”  
“It’s fine, Marco, seriously. That’s what friends do, right?”

“I suppose… You’re not going to give up if I say no, are you?”  
“Nope,” Jean grinned. “What time are you getting discharged?”  
“Noon, I think; they still have to run some final tests.”

“I’ll be here at 11:45.”

\---

Jean pulled up to the hospital one week later at exactly 11:57. Marco was waiting for him in the lobby with his bag.

“You’re out early.”  
“You’re here late.” Marco’s eyes twinkled as he slid into the passenger seat. “I live out near Angel street. That’s not too far, is it?”

“If it was, what would you do? Walk? It’s fine, Marco.”

They drove in silence for a few miles, until Marco realized they were not heading towards Angel street.

“Jean? Where are we going?”  
“I’m kidnapping you,” Jean said, straightfaced.

“Very funny. Where are we going.”  
“It’s a surpriiiisse!” Jean sang, and refused to say any more until they pulled up at a drive-in burger joint.

“Oh my god, Jean. Seriously? I just wanted a nap.”

“You would rather have sleep than a bacon cheeseburger and a chocolate shake? Wow. Why didn’t they check your head when you were in the hospital?”

“Jeeeaaaannnn…”  
“Hey, I thought it would cheer you up! Plus I’ll pay, so you don’t need to freak out, Freckles.”

“Fine,” Marco grumbled, trying to squash the grin spreading across his face. “I guess it is lunchtime.”

After a bacon cheeseburger & chocolate shake (Jean) and a burger with avocado & a strawberry shake (Marco), Jean started towards Angel street. Marco’s head lolled as they drove, and he soon slumped forward for a nap after the feast. Jean looked over at him and smiled, then realized he was in command of a multi-ton vehicle and had no clue where they were going.

“Hey, Marco.”  
“Mmnnnnnnnmmm.”

“Marco, wake up, I don’t know where you live.”  
“S’okay, I’ll just come home with you” Marco mumbled.

“Fat chance, freckles,” Jean shot back, glad Marco still had his eyes closed and so missed the excited smile and blush.

“Really, though, I do need to know where you live.”  
“Mmmm. Where are we?” Marco sat up, blinking. “Oh. Uh, turn right on Prospect. Should be a mile or so. My house is the first blue one on the right.”

“All right, sleepyhead. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

Jean pulled into the driveway of a cute (if a bit run down after three months of vacancy) colonial cottage the color of the sky.  
“Hey, we’re here. I’ll grab your stuff for you.”  
Marco tumbled out of the car while Jean went to get Marco’s bag out of the trunk. He caught up on the front porch, and held out the bag for Marco.

“Thanks for everything, Jean. Really. I think I got better faster from all the cards and sweets.”  
“I did what anyone would do,” Jean protested. “Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I just hope you’ll still have a reason to come to the candy shop now that you’ve had so many vanilla lollipops. You’ve gotta be sick of them now.”

Marco put his hand over Jean’s on the handle of his bag. “I could never get sick of them.” He stepped closer to Jean.

“W-well, you’re probably sick of me now,” stammered Jean, flustered at his proximity to the man with the freckles and beautiful eyes.

“Hmm, nope, wrong again. Quite the opposite, actually,” murmured Marco, and before Jean could respond he placed his free hand on Jean’s cheek and kissed him gently.

Jean promptly dropped Marco’s bag as he grabbed Marco in a bear hug and kissed him back furiously. Marco pulled back, gasping a bit.

 

“I’m still not supposed to do anything strenuous, Jean, don’t squish me!”  
Jean looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so Marco amended his words.  
“I mean, the kissing’s fine, we just don’t want to pop my new valve, huh?” He leaned in again with a smile, and Jean caught the scents of vanilla and cinnamon before he was overwhelmed with Marco’s lips.


	3. The bonus smut (now with 25% more plot!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you for asking for this, and tumblr users kirschteins-booty and marcos-penis for helping me edit (go check them out, they're cool)!

Jean pulled up to the hospital to pick up Marco, hopefully for the last time. His last scheduled followup appointment was today, and if everything checked out, he would just have to go back in six months for a checkup. During the two months they had been dating since Marco came home from the hospital, he had been back about once a week. Afterwards they would always make sure to drop by the drive in burger joint they had gone to the first time for nostalgia’s sake. It was a nice habit they fell into, and it guaranteed Jean time with Marco to hold his hand and kiss his cheek. He couldn’t do much else, though. Marco still couldn’t do anything that would set his heart beating too hard. Jean could see that the freckled man was frustrated, so to make up for it they’d go for walks in the park, or have a picnic in the bright spring sunshine. Every time Marco saw a child running by flying a kite or a dog chasing a Frisbee, though, his face would fall and Jean could see a deep sadness and longing behind his chocolate eyes.

“Hey, the more we walk, the stronger you’ll get, right? You’ll be able to be just like them in no time. I promise. And if you don’t, I’ll keep you around anyways in case a bear attacks.”

Jean would squeeze Marco’s hand, watching him roll his eyes at the terrible joke, and then peck a kiss on one of his spangled cheeks.  
He was jolted back to the present by the car door opening and Marco sticking his head in.

“Guess what!” he chirped, even more chipper than usual.

“You have morning-person-itis and about a week to live.”

“Oh my gosh, ten o’clock is not early. You’re just grumpy. And no. The doctors cleared me for physical activity!”  
“Wait really? That’s great!” Jean grinned. “You’re pulling the car home!”

“Ha ha. Shut up and drive, we’re getting milkshakes to celebrate!”  
“Don’t you get a milkshake every week?”  
“Shush, you.”

After grabbing strawberry milkshakes from the burger joint, they headed back to Marco’s house. Jean walked to the porch with him like always, not noticing the quickening of Marco’s breath and the way his ears were turning red.

“Well, uh, I had a fun time. Since you don’t need to go back to the hospital anytime soon, maybe you’d want to maybe do something else sometime, like a real serious date…” Jean trailed off as Marco fumbled with his keys. He unlocked the door without looking at Jean and stepped inside.

“Uh, Marco? Do I get an answ— _waaaugh_!”  
Marco wordlessly pulled him over the threshold and pinned him against the wall, attacking him with kisses.

“Ah, Marco, what—why the sudden—I mean I don’t mind but—huh?” Jean managed to stammer between Marco’s lips.

Marco pulled back for a moment, still with Jean’s wrists in his hands. “I’m cleared for strenuous activities, remember?”  
“O-oh.”

Marco resumed attacking Jean’s lips, pulling his wrists above his head. Jean was not about to complain, and did his best to keep up with Marco’s frenzied pace and oh  gosh now he was biting and his tongue was filling Jean’s mouth and it was too damn hot. He managed to push Marco off for a moment to take off his jacket, and Marco decided to close the door that had been standing open. Instead of returning to Jean, though, he headed down the hall towards where Jean knew his bedroom was. If his heart was already beating this fast from a bit of kissing, he couldn’t imagine what Marco must be feeling.

Jean followed down the hall, entering the room he had seen Marco going into. He was greeted by a shirtless boyfriend with a rope in his hand.

“Just because I get to move again doesn’t mean you can. Why don’t you feel how I felt for a bit, hmm, Jean?”  
“I. Uh. What.”

“Come here.”

Jean’s legs obeyed him, and he clambered on to Marco’s bed. Who knew his boyfriend would look this sexy holding a rope and a leather strap? Who knew Marco could _be_ this sexy? He could feel blood rushing to his lower regions as Marco roughly shoved his legs apart, binding them to the corners of the bedframe, and practically tore off his shirt.  As he lowered his head to his bare chest, Jean gasped, and Marco glanced up.  
“Oh? Right, you can still make noise. We might have to fix that. What do you think would look good, Jean?”

“Er.” Jean realized his mouth was wide open as he stared at Marco’s lightly flushed face. “Um. Got any of those vanilla lollipops left?”

Marco smiled at him and stroked his hair a bit. “I might have something better.”  
He turned to the bedside table as some choice explitives ran through Jean’s mind. What was UP with Marco? They had barely even kissed before because of his condition. And now they were doing this? And Marco was ridiculously kinky, it seemed, and had a damn fine torso with a few freckles across his shoulders, a clean pink scar in the center of his chest, and fuck of course he was cut, too, even after months with no exercise. The pout forming on Jean’s face was wiped right off when Marco leaned back over him with the strip of leather from earlier.

“This should keep you quiet, right?” he smirked, and throwing a leg across Jean’s hips, started grinding over his pelvis with that fine ass and tied the strap over Jean’s jaw. All Jean could manage with the friction over his rapidly tightening pants was a strangled “mmmph!”

“Perfect.” And Marco resumed attacking him, nibbling at his collarbone, nipping up his neck, and tantalizingly swirling his tongue around the other man’s ear. He moved back down, repeating the pattern, and started to gently scrape his teeth along Jean’s chest, running long fingers through his hair. Jean made a sound that was half-gasp, half-moan. He wanted Marco to just _touch him already,_ and tried lifting his hips to grind against him to show it. The man straddling him got the message and directed his kisses southwards, trailing fingers along Jean’s arm and chest. Wet bite marks appeared along his ribcage, and ever so slowly Marco’s tongue dragged down to his waistband. Jean whined against the leather as Marco lifted his head, eyes gleaming.

“What, Jean? What do you want? I’m sorry I can’t hear you.”

Fuck him, he knew perfectly well what Jean wanted. He wanted Marco to fuck him, now. No pleases involved, no more begging, just wrap those long fingers around his dick and go to town.

“Mmmmmph,” he angrily spat against the gag, bucking his hips up.

“What? You’ll have to ask a little louder.”  
“MMMMMMMMPH.”

“What’s that?”  
Marco reached up and slid the gag down just enough for Jean to spit “Dammit, Marco, fucking get on with it.”  
“Say please.”

What. As his eyes narrowed, Jean felt his dick rise against his pants. In the back of his mind, he noted that this must be what “so angry you pop a boner” feels like. The rest of him, though, muttered a resentful “please.”

“Please what?”  
“Gah, fuck you. Please just get me off already and fuck me so hard I can’t walk in the moOOORNING WAH!”  
Marco had placed a hand over the bulge in his pants and was rubbing slowly but firmly, replacing the gag with the other hand. He undid the front of Jean’s pants, yanked down his boxers, and before Jean could react to being so bare in front of Marco for the first time, a hot, wet mouth descended on his dick.

_Where did Marco LEARN this?_

A tongue swirled around the head as a hand reached up to wrap around the base and gently twist. Jean realized his hands were still free as Marco bobbed his head slowly, teasingly, and curled his fingers in his dark hair, hands shaking slightly. The leather around his mouth could not suppress the little gasps he was making as Marco quickened his pace. Jean squeezed his eyes shut and let the pleasure wash over him. Suddenly, the pressure around his cock was gone. Jean cracked one eye to see Marco fiddling with the button on his own pants. He reached down and placed his hand on Marco’s, a question in his eyes Marco answered with a nod. Jean slowly undid the button and zipper, then pulled Marco’s hardness out. Marco reached for a bottle on the bedside table, coated his fingers with lube, and settled himself back over Jean. Jean gave an experimental tug, and was rewarded with a whine from Marco. _He’d show him strenuous behavior._ Marco leaned back over Jean, propping himself up with his clean hand, and took both their dicks in his cool fingers and began to thrust his hips slowly back and forth with a few small grunts.

“Nnnngh.”

Jean met Marco’s hand again and stroked faster, desperately needing release. This time Marco let him do what he wanted; small moans increasing in volume as his hips moved faster.

“God, Jean, you’re so wonderful. Nnn, keep going, that’s great. A-ah…”

Jean felt pressure building in the pit of his stomach, and scratched at Marco’s back clumsily, earning a few more gasps and “fuck, _Jean_ ”s.

“Jean, I- I’m about to- ohmyGOD, FUCK.”

A few tight strokes and Marco was coming on Jean’s stomach, the added warmth mingling with the sweat glistening on both their chests. Marco’s brow was furrowed in a mix between agony and ecstasy, and the small grunts between Marco’s pants pushed Jean over. They lay together, breathing hard and sticky from mixed sweat and semen. Marco lifted his head to kiss Jean, realized the gag was still on Jean’s face (as well as a lazy, contented expression), and pulled it off. Jean lifted his head to kiss Marco’s nose, and Marco returned the favor, but pulled back with a slightly worried expression on his face. For once, Jean was in tune with the other’s feelings, and crinkled his brow.

“What’s up?”

“I, well… I’m not completely sure, actually. Did you like all this? It’s okay if you don’t, I just wanted to make complete sure…” Marco trailed off, looking away.

“Marco, I hated it. I hated it so much that I walked out ten minutes ago.”

For a moment, Marco looked like a rusty nail had just been driven through his gut, but when he realized the sarcasm in Jean’s tone, he cracked a smile.

“So it wasn’t that bad?”  
 _That bad? Try “about to march over to the hospital to complain to the doctors that they didn’t let Marco get his heart rate up soon enough.”_

But all Jean said was “it was amazing,” with a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. Marco snuggled into his chest, humming, and Jean nuzzled his hair and tried to wrap his legs around his new lover until he realized they were still tied to the bed.

“Hey, Marco?”  
“Mmmm?” came the reply, head still nestled to Jean’s chest.

“Would you mind, uh…” Jean gestured downwards.

“Oh! Sorry!” Marco blushed, obligingly shifting down to undo the knots.

As soon as Jean was free, he used his calves to pull Marco back on top of him. He laid a small kiss on the other’s lips.

“You’re sweet,” Marco whispered.

“Hmmm,” Jean sighed in reply, a smile resting on his face as they dozed in the midday sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it's really done. Thanks for reading, and I have a tumblr (metasepiapfefferi). Come say hi <3

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about writing a bonus chapter of kissing and sex, but have a lot of other things on my plate, so I'll do it if you ask me. Thanks for reading!


End file.
